


The Ongoing Struggles of A Teenage Alpha

by RayByAnotherName



Series: Alpha Jackson [2]
Category: Full House (US)
Genre: Alpha Problems, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Knotting, Pheromones, Puberty, Scent Marking, Scenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-04-14 01:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14125290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayByAnotherName/pseuds/RayByAnotherName
Summary: Jackson's continued adventures at figuring out this whole alpha thing. And complaining about it.-.-.-Basically every trope from A/B/O fanfiction turned into a punchline. Because puberty sucks for everyone. Its a rule.





	1. Alpha's Prerogative

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on some Teen Wolf assignments and this is what I work on when Derek Hale annoys me with his stoicness. (Or I need some inspiration for Stiles sass.)
> 
> Written in 20 minute spurts on my phone and posted directly from said phone. Apologies for any glaring typos - I'm blaming them on autocorrect.

Being an alpha sucked. 

Like, massively!

Why in the hell did anyone want to be an alpha? Popko thought it was awesome. Why? Because Popko is an idiot. 

Jackson could smell everything. Everything! 

Do you know how disgusting a public bathroom is? A public High School bathroom? Yeah. There's a lot of smells. Bad ones.

And he could smell everyone. 

Everyone. 

Every day. Every second. Everywhere!

God. Popko did not understand. 

Neither did his mom. Which was, honestly, a lot more annoying. 

"Are you going to send me to stay with Joey every weekend?" Jackson had a headache. 

It was, for once, not Ramona induced. 

Jackson pulled his head up from the counter. The blessedly cold counter. "I'm not gonna, like, snap or anything."

His mom continued to futz around the kitchen. She was making him snacks for the trip. Again.

This was the eighth weekend he was spending with Joey since he'd presented as an alpha. Do you know how many weeks it had been since said presentation. 

Nine. 

He'd spent the first week entirely with Joey in Vegas.  
Because being an alpha sucked and there weren't very many of them. 

Apparently his dad had been a lucky recessive alpha, which meant no one else on the Fuller side BUT HIS DAD was an alpha. 

Lucky was not the word Jackson would use. 

Michelle was apparently an alpha. And his grandmother. But there hadn't been a male alpha on the Katsopolosis side before and betas for the Tanners as far back as anyone could tell.

Assumptions had been made. Assumptions had been wrong. 

And now Jackson was spending every weekend learning 'how to be an alpha' from Uncle Joey. 

Uncle Joey had taught him everything he knew within an hour. 

Time. Discipline. A good coping mechanism. 

Jackson figured sarcasm worked for that last one. 

"I'm just not comfortable with you and Ramona in the house together yet."

Ah, the kicker. 

What was the one weakness to the supremely powerful alpha? 

An omega.

Which Ramona was. 

Did he mention being an alpha sucked? 

"Last I heard omegas only go into heat once a year," Jackson rolled his eyes. They'd had this conversation before. 

Three times.

"And even when our pheremones peaked, nothing happened."

His mom put her hands on the counter and raised an eyebrow at him. Apparently she still didn't believe that.

Even though it was true!

Popko and his jealousy could go jump off a cliff. 

"Could I at least go hang out with Popko?"

The eyebrows intensified. 

That was a no. 

Jackson groaned, tossing his head back, "I'll go pack."

He grumbled all the way upstairs, adding in a few sulky stair kicks because they made him feel better.

Plus, his mom packed extra cookies when she felt guilty. Which she should, spending the weekend with Joey meant spending the weekend with his family. 

The Gladstone Four. All weekend. 

Not cool.

There was one upside to the whole alpha thing. 

He got his own room. 

Tommy had officially become Max's roommate the wek he'd been in Vegas so Jackson got his own room again. Next to Ramona's rather than across. 

A difference only in the minds of their beta mothers. Here in reality his lovely alpha senses were aware of Ramona's presence from three blocks away all the way to his door. 

Which was where she was thirty minutes later when he was pretending to pack. She stood there, with her new disgusting scent suppressant clogging up his nose, for ten minutes.

"Either come in or go away already!" Jackson called out at her, lounging on his bed. His phone above him, thumbs cursing out Popko for all his beta-ness. 

Ramona cleared her throat as she walked in. She wore her typical 'cool girl' scowl, but her eyes were looking at the wall. 

"What do you want?" Jackson scooched back to lean against his headboard. Popko was sending him stats about alpha musculature. 

Photographically. 

Ew.

Ramona fidgeted slightly before placing her hands on her hips and moving her eyes to his face, "I wanted to apologize."

Jackson snorted.

"Hey!" Ramona stomped her foot, "I'm being sincere here, you could at least fake some respect."

Jackson rolled his eyes, "What are you even apologizing for?" Her cheeks turned bright red. She turned her head to look at his posters. 

Oh.

He felt his cheeks warm up a bit too. He still had some super-sensory memories of Ramona's body pressed against his. 

Which he was fairly certain were getting more explicit as time went on.

"You don't have to apologize." Jackson looked across the room to his computer. His still-packed-from-last-weekend bag sat on the desk beside it. 

Ramona scoffed, "I'm the one who didn't realize what was happening. Omegas have a long build up before…" She cleared her throat, "Anyway. You get what I'm saying."

"Nothing happened," Jackson shrugged. It was true. Other than some overly familiar cuddling. "And I could have put the pieces together earlier too if I'd been paying attention."

The bed dipped next to him. 

Jackson turned his head to find Ramona sitting on his bed next to him, derisive look on her face. It was the closest they'd been since…the incident.

"How many omegas do you actually know?" Ramona was arching an eyebrow at him.

"Apparently 7," Jackson responded automatically. He smirked, "There are two, beside you, within a ten mile radius right now."

Ramona blinked, "You can tell that?"

"Would you like to know how many betas?" Jackson watched her eyes go wide with a sense of satisfaction. He didn't actually know how many betas. Their scents blended together more and there were generally too many to count. 

But. You know. Alpha's prerogitive.

"I meant before," she elbowed him between the ribs. He gasped out a breath. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, "I've always known there was a chance I'd be an omega. I should have been paying more attention."

Jackson just shrugged this time. Much safer.

"That's pretty cool that you can smell all that, " Ramona looked at, smile big, "Public restrooms must be SO fun."

Jackson groaned and sunk down on his bed, "Don't remind me!" Her laughed tugged at his instincts a bit.

"My sense of smell is better, but really I'd have to be right on top of you to distinguish your phenotype." 

Jackson did not imagine her on top of him.

Much. 

He should probably ask Joey why she tugged more at his instincts than…well, everyone. Every time Popko so much as mentioned Ramona he had the urge to strangle his best friend. Not to mention the dudes at school. 

He'd thought it was because of The Incident, but two months on it wasn't fading so Jackson was fairly positive it wasn't.

"Except you, of course," Ramona chuckled, and Jackson's eyes snapped to hers. They shimmered. 

There was a twist in his gut.

"I can smell you for like a mile," Ramona huffed out a laugh, "Even with the suppressant." 

The twist lurched. 

"You're like," Ramona tilted her head, thinking, "A constant scent."

Ok. Maybe the weekends away were a good idea.

"Papa says it's because you're an alpha," Ramona shrugged, "And an omega's nose is specifically meant to seek them out."

That…

Explained so much.

Probably too much. Especially about her parents' relationship. But Jackson was NOT thinking about that.

At all.

"Are omegas easier for you to smell?" Ramona looked at him, eyes wide and curious. 

He swallowed. The answer was…complicated. Technically they weren't any easier to smell than betas, but there were fewer of them so it was easier to differentiate. Alphas too actually. 

"Sorta?" Jackson squinted, eyes trained on his ceiling. Looking at Ramona felt…dangerous at the moment. "I think it's just easier because there are so many betas." 

"Hmm," Ramona puckered her lips as she thought. She turned her head slightly, tossing her hair. Her scent wafter towards him in a big wave. 

The sour scent was strongest - like a lime squeezed directly onto his tongue kind of strong. It pushed that naggy little desire to shove Ramona down on his bed…down. Her spicy floral perfume was easy to distinguish as well.

He kind of wanted to ask what its name was, just so he knew what to call it in his head. But that would call attention to the whole parsing her scent thing.

Not high in his to do list.

Her natural musk was just distinguishable and it was by far Jackson's favorite. It didn't make him nauseous like the sour scent or dizzy like the sweet one - which was, thankfully, absent. And it was just vaguely pleasant in a way the florals just, weren't. 

"Jackson?"

And Ramona was talking to him again.

"What?" He watched her roll her eyes. Obviously he'd tuned her out for a minute. Oh well. 

She shuffled herself on the bed, bringing her legs underneath her, "Has anyone…said anything?" He raised an eyebrow. She unnecessarily tucked a lock of hair behind her ear again, "At school?"

"About…" Jackson gestured for her to continue. She just blushed. "About you?" She nodded. Still blushing. "Being an omega?"

The answer was yes. But only so far as Popko filling him in on the school gossip when he got back. Lola had laid down the law before Ramona had returned to school.

"Not really." 

She breathed out a sigh of relief. Her hand pushing through her hair. He swallowed hard when her scent hit him this time. Full frontal attack, full weapons array.

"Could you," he choked out, "not do that." He closed his eyes and sunk down lower on his bed, "It's kind of…distracting."

Ramona's cheeks went cherry red. He was officially looking up at her from his pillow. His own scent encompassing and cocooning him. 

"Sorry," she sat up straighter and Jackson waved her off. 

It was dissipating, "It's cool." It wasn't. But it also wasn't Ramona's fault and he kinda didn't want to be a dick. 

He was totally blaming it on the weird instincts. 

In either case, she still basically fled his room. Which he wasn't dissappointed about.

He wasn't. 

His cell vibrated and he looked down to see yet another text from Popko. 

'Did you know alphas can scent mark?!' 

Oh.

God, being an alpha sucked.


	2. Bubble, Bubble, Toil and...Ice Baths

"Seriously, Jackson?" Popko chortled as they walked to their lockers. Sometimes he missed the days when Popko was dating Ramona and annoyed her between classes. 

Jackson wanted to bang his head against the metal, "No, Popko, I cannot lift a car."

"Have you tried?" 

He had. But he'd sworn Tommy, the only witness to his failure, to secrecy. So it never happened.

Popko leaned against the locker next to him, eyebrow raised and hat tilted, "There was this guy on youtube…"

Jackson glared.

The internet was the worst thing ever invented!

"Not everything on the internet is true, Bobby."

Popko scowled at the use of his first name, "Dude."

"Can we please talk about something else?" Jackson swapped out his Algebra book for his American Lit one. 

"Fine," Popko sighed, crossing his arms, "You hear about what happened at Lola's party last weekend?"

"No," Jackson shrugged, "Vegas, again."

Popko nodded. It wasn't like either of them was invited to said party. Exes weren't exactly high up on anyone's guest list. 

"Darren The Dick made quite a scene from what I heard." Popko nodded, smirking as they headed towards lunch. 

What else was new? Darren was always making a scene. He gave high school athletes everywhere a bad name.

"Lola hulked out apparently."

Jackson paused, "Lola?" She was technically an alpha, same as Darren. They'd both presented before Jackson had. 

Popko nodded, "I thought Ramona would have told you." Alarm bells were going off in his head.

"Ramona?" His voice was tight, Popko raised another eyebrow.

"I don't know the whole story," Popko raised his hands in surrender, "Just that Lola kicked Darren out of her house over Ramona. The snaps were pretty hard core."

And now Jackson wished he hadn't deleted Snapchat. 

When they walked into the lunchroom Jackson flinched. The smell was unreal. Worse than the food. He ignored it as they took a seat with the rest of his friends. 

Well, he ignored part of it. There were only four omegas in their lunch period (so far) and two of them were at his table. Mankowski and Gene were easy enough to ignore.

Ramona was even easier to pinpoint. 

She was with Lola and the royal court of popular kids, per usual. So was her scent. Totally usual. Mostly sour with the suppressant. 

How the hell did Lola stand sitting next to her?

His nose wrinkled without his knowledge. 

Gene's suppressant had a rotten scent and Mankowski's a rancid one, but neither was as strong or thick as the sour lemon that was Ramona.

"Dude," Popko nudged his shoulder, "What are you doing?" 

Jackson shrugged, "Nothing." He'd dissect Ramona's scent later. According to google if he tried hard enough he would be able to pinpoint emotional shifts from her scent.

Popko smirked. Lips slim and cheeks wide.

"Sure, Jackson."

They returned to the weekend gossip. Jackson really hated Vegas. He missed out on everything!

Nugs had apparently gotten a tutor while he was away. A super hot one. 

Darren the Dick faded from his mind. Until right after American Lit. Because Gym. It was a thing. A very annoying thing. 

"Hey Fuller!" 

A thing that included Darren grinning at him from across the locker room. Jackson immediately turned in the other direction. Towards his locker.

"Come On!" Darren mocked, loudly, "Don't run away!"

Jackson rolled his eyes. Like he was going to fall for that. 

Darren crossed the room as Jackson pulled off his shirt to stuff it inside his locker. When Darren's hand connected with the locker door, slamming it shut, the entirety of the locker room went still.

"I hear you're shacked up with Lola's bitch."

And if everyone wasn't listening then, they were now. 

Jackson turned around to face Darren. He was taller, bigger, but Jackson felt like he could compensate with rage at this point. He was pretty scrappy. 

"And I hear Lola kicked your ass." Jackson grinned as Darren's fell. 

The guys that had been occuping the benches nearby got up. No one wanted to get caught in the crossfire. Jackson could respect that. 

"Does Lola fight all your battles?" Darren's eyes narrowed, "Or did she get the omega in the divorce?"

Jackson wasn't sure what annoyed him more - the fact that he was talking about Ramona like she was nothing or the fact that he was talking about her at all. 

Both.

Definitely both.

His fingers curled into a fist as Darren kept talking - Jackson was fairly positive everything coming out of his mouth was disgusting.

Jackson felt totally justified when his fist collided with Darren's mouth. Right up till the guy's teeth scratched his knuckles.

"Fuck!" Darren roared from the floor. Jackson blinked. Darren was on the floor? 

Not for long. His body collided with Jackson's and Jackson's back hit the lockers. There was a crunching sound that he hoped came from the lockers. 

Jackson lifted his knee up, nailing Darren in the abdomen and then lowered it with force onto his foot. Heel first. That crunch was not from the lockers.

An hour later Jackson was sitting in the nurses office - cringing every few seconds as she cleaned out each of the cuts on his back. Thoroughly. 

Who knew twisted metal could leave paper cuts? Metal cuts? Whatever.

"Mr. Johnson had to go to the hospital to have his foot set." The principle was looking at him with narrowed eyes. His mom was standing there with mouth and eyes wide. 

"You broke his foot?" DJ shrieked as she looked at Jackson. He attempted to shrug. The nurse immediately tutted him, pressing an alcohol soaked cotton ball against a cut on his shoulder.

The principal sighed, "Given the circumstances the Johnsons have agreed not to press charges. There were a number of students who witness Darren's…provocative words."

DJ's eyebrows went high and her chin went low, "Words?" Here eyes turned to Jackson with a chilling look when it was explained that Jackson threw the first punch. 

The drive home was quiet. Very quiet. 

Jackson was not looking forward to his two week suspension. Less so when they walked through the door into a quiet house. Aunt Stephanie had taken off for some gig in San Diego that morning. 

"Jackson Michael Fuller!" 

He flinched at the high-pitched shriek that his mother emitted as soon as the door was closed. His stomach did a lovely somersault.

"What in Nantucket were you thinking?!" 

Jackson swallowed back bile and stoof up straight. He didn't want to see his lunch again. He didn't want to sit through this lecture more than once either. 

"This is exactly the sort of thing you're suppose to be avoiding!" DJ started pacing the stretch of floor between the stairs and front door. 

Moving to sit down seemed like an attention grabbing action so Jackson didn't even shuffle his feet as she stood in front of his mom. Ordinarily he would at least hang his head in an attempt to look cowed by her words, but he had this headache that was bubbling up behind his forehead. No attempts were made.

"And! This is why you're spending the weekends with Joey!" DJ paused to point a finger at him, "To learn how to control these urges!" 

Ok. Bubbling wasn't just a headache.

"I spend every weekend with Joey because you don't know what to do with me!" Jackson had no memory of the decision to speak, or yell! But he totally agreed with what came out of his mouth so he rolled with it. 

"Jackson -"

"You didn't expect me to be an alpha, so you just foist me off on Joey rather than figure it out!" His mouth ignored the command to shut up and Jackson's fingers are tingly. "You don't even try to understand! Or ask questions!

Like. Really tingly. Like, painful burning sensation tingly that is also in his chest.

"It's not like I have any clue what's going on either!" Jackson's mouth feels dry. His mouth finally shuts itself when he starts coughing. The tingly feeling is in his throat.

His mom's face is a scrunched up as she steps closer, hand reaching for his face, "Jackson…honey, you're really red. Are you-"

Jackson blacks at after that. When he comes to his body is warm, burning up like it had during his rut. Or a really bad fever. His mind was foggy and he could just hear his mom's voice, muffled and distant. 

The sight that greeted him was not anywhere in his expectations. For one, he was in the tub. With his clothes on. And surrounded by ice. 

Okay. Lots of questions.

He focused on his mother's voice. She was talking to someone. It took him a second, but he recognized Kimmy's voice and…Rocki's mom.

"Thanks for coming, Gia, you're really the only alpha we know in the state." "No sweat. Deej did all the right things. My husband gets the fever every tax season." "Tom didn't, not often anyway, when I was pregnant with Jackson a few times and then once with Max…" "They're stress induced in males." "Really?" "Yup. Females don't have to worry about this particular quirk in the alpha physiology." "Well I'm glad I remembered what to do then." 

Jackson blinked. Fever? Is that why he was so warm? And his head ached. And his body. And… okay, yeah fever. But why would it be triggered by stress, and why now? It wasn't like the ten previous weeks hadn't been sucky.

"His heart beat is jumping up," Rocki's mom, Gia, didn't even finish her sentence before his mom was pushing through the door.

"Jackson," her hand was on his forehead as she knelt beside him, "You've cooled down a bit, but you're still really warm."

The air smelled funny. Like singed hair. His eyes locked on Gia. It was her. She smirked.

"Kids got a good nose," Gia stepped back into the hallway, "I ain't trying to stake a claim or anything."

Oh. Right. Alpha. She was an alpha. Like stupid Darren. Or Lola. Their scents weren't quite so strong though. 

Wait. 

If she was an alpha. And she'd said her husband was.

Great. Were all of his ex-girlfriends (or ex-not-girlfriends) going to be alphas? 

The idea of Rocki as an alpha made him shutter and he closed his eyes at the image. The world sort of fuzed out then. Just muffled voices and bad scents.

Which were blessedly absent when he woke up again. The overwarm feeling was gone too. And the ice. 

"Jackson?"

He flinched at the voice. Ok. Heightened hearing was working. And extra sensitive. Jackson gulped down the bile rising in his throat. Again.

His mom whispered, "Jackson?" Her voice was still loud and vaguely muffled in his ear. As if she were screaming through cotton balls.

When he opened his eyes again Jackson was greeted first by his mother's face. Right in front of his. And then by a sweaty smell that clicked into his head as worry.

Huh. He could smell emotional shifts! 

Five points for google.

"Your fever broke an hour ago," her hand pressed against his forehead, "I was getting worried."

Jackson shifted and sat up. Black spots in his vision and a faint swoosh in his head told him in no uncertain terms Not to do that again.

"Your dad never really passed out when he had these fevers," his mom was rambling, talking fast, "but Gia said it was pretty normal. Even so, I called the doctor. And boy howdy, he had nothing helpful!"

Blinking in the appearance of his room - cleaned, organized. Ok. Worry was obviously an understatement. DJ was already fretting around his desk, dusting the wood as if she hadn't already done that.

There was a sheen. And an orange smell. 

Everywhere. 

"How long have I been out?" Jackson scrunched up his brow as he sat back against his headboard. The feeling of being stuffed full of cotton balls was ebbing away. 

DJ look at him, eyebrows drawn in, "It's almost midnight."

Oh. 

"Shit." Jackson's head thumped against the wood. Also orange scented. It was kind of overwhelming.

"Language," DJ snapped her finger at him, eyesbrows high. Jackson hurumphed and slunk back down the bed. 

Her voice didn't sound muffled anymore, but it was still sharp. Though he was fairly certain that was because she was still upset with him. 

"Gia gave me the name of a doctor who specializes in alpha physiology," DJ wrung her hands as she came back to sit on his bed. Her hand moved to his forehead, "I only knew what was happening because-"

"Dad got them," Jackson pressed further into his pillow. He kind of missed the muffling now, "I heard that part." Her hand stilled. 

She smiled nervously, "You weren't wrong…before." DJ sighed, "I don't really know what you're going through right now, or how to help."

Jackson scrunched up his eyebrows. He had a vague memory of yelling. Of a bubbly warm feeling. 

"You…don't remember what you said before you fainted do you?" DJ pursed her lips. 

"Nantucket," Jackson racked his brain for the last thing he remembered besides the ice. "Vegas?"

DJ grimaced, "Okay." She kissed the top of his head and stood up, "Get some rest, we'll talk in the morning." The raised eyebrows on her way out promised that they'd be talking about everything. 

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was this close to making Chad Bradley the stereotypical alpha jock, but he wasn't a big enough jerk for me to justify the character assassination so I invented Darren the Dick instead. 
> 
> Chad the Brad will have to play another role! Maybe! Eventually!


	3. The Most Awkward Doctor's Visit in History

Jackson hated doctors. 

There were needles and bright lights and condescension by the ton. Plus his mom nodded along to all their medical jargon and responded in kind so he never had any clue what was going on. 

Dr. Ngo was worse. 

He had all that, plus extra intrusive questions. In front of his mother. About sex. And masturbation. 

So. So much worse. 

"Alright," the short, and annoyingly fit, doctor looked down at his clipboard, "Why don't you tell me what induced the pheromone fever?"

"Pheromone…?" 

"We were arguing about a fight he got into at school." DJ pipped up from the chair next to the exam table, the magazine she was pretending to read was upside down. 

Dr. Ngo shook his head, "I doubt the argument caused it." DJ frowned. "Mr. Fuller?" 

Jackson blinked at the focused stare. He fidgeted. Ngo was an alpha. He smelled like burnt sugar and he radiated control. 

It was very annoying because Jackson felt like he had zero. 

"I have no idea," Jackson shrugged, "I'm not really sure what happened at all."

"Basically, you overheated," Dr. Ngo kept eye contact with him, "You're heart rate and temperature spiked because you pheromones created an imbalance in your brain chemistry."

"That sounds…" 

"Deadly?" Dr. Ngo raised an eyebrow at him, "It is." He held the clipboard to his chest, "They're usually triggered by your instincts. Or more specifically, by ignoring them. Adrenaline increases slowly, causing increased aggression and lack of impulse control."

Jackson gulped. He had a bad feeling about the way his mom had just straightened in her chair.

"If improperly treated, the adrenaline will spike for long enough and your heart will give out."

Dr. Ngo did not sugar coat. 

"So," He raised his eyebrow again, "What caused the fever, Mr. Fuller?"

"I was kinda worried about…Ramona. Earlier." Jackson did not look at his mom. He could feel her stare. And his stupid blush. "It was way earlier though. At lunch."

The clipboard came back down, "Ramona is the omega that lives with you?" Ngo looked at his mother then.

"Yes," DJ's voice was sharp, like a whistle in his ear, "She's on suppressants though."

"Hmm," Ngo was looking at him again, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Jackson," that could not be good, "What does Ramona smell like to you?"

Jackson gulped, "The suppressant or her?" Ngo smirked. "What?"

"Can you smell the difference between other omegas and their suppressants?"

The answer was no. But he'd never actually tried. Mankowski and Gene were not exactly people he wanted to parse scents for.

"That a no?" Ngo raised an eyebrow, "Do their suppressants smell different?"

"Mankowski's is a sour milk smell," Jackson shrugged, "Gene's is rotting brussel sprouts." 

Ngo waited. And waited. Eyebrow raised and pen poised over the clipboard. 

"Ramona's is a sour lemon. It's super strong," Jackson wrinkled his nose, "I can't even smell oranges anymore without getting nauseous."

Ngo scribbled. And scribbled. 

And scribbled.

Jackson really wanted to throw the clipboard at the wall. 

He tighten his fingers around the edge of the exam table. It was a thick cushion. His fingers couldn't pierce it. 

"Jackson and Ramona presented on the same day," DJ cut in, a heavy sweat scent giving away her concern even with her steady voice, "He was with her when she went into heat. Could that impact him in anyway?"

Ngo had laser eyes now. Double eyebrow raise. 

"If something happened, yes," Ngo turned from DJ to Jackson, "Mr. Fuller?"

Laser. Eyes. 

"No," Jackson shook his head, ignored his mother's scoff. Nothing Had Happened!

His grip tightened on the exam table.

"It wouldn't have to be sexual," Ngo held the clipboard to his chest, "Mere proximity, if -"

"There was some cuddling."

Jackson looked at Ngo's shoes. Shiny, black loafers. If he stared hard enough he could make out the stitching around the toe.

"Ramona kind of," Jackson bit his lip, "burrowed into my side."

Ngo made a humming noise, "Did her face come into contact with the scent glands in your neck?"

Jackson teetered for a second on the edge of lying. 

"Yeah," he admitted. When Jackson glanced over his mom looked confused by the questions. 

If it weren't for stupid Popko and his obsessive googling Jackson would be similarly confused.

"Then that explains the fever," Ngo sighed, "It was probably building for a while." Jackson pursed his lips. "It seemed this Ramona is marked with Jackson's scent."

His mom reacted…exactly as expected. 

An acidic cherry scent spread over the room, "What?!"

Yup. 

Ngo spent the next ten minutes explaining scent marking to his mother. 

Which was kind of funny, because Jackson had assumed she'd know that much since alphas supposedly marked their mates. She'd been married to his dad for over a decade. 

Maybe it wasn't as common as the internet led him to believe. 

"I assure you Mrs. Fuller there's nothing nefarious about this," Ngo sighed, long and heavy, "It's downright understandable given the situation you just described."

Yeah. Jackson didn't really agree with that. Understandable was not the word he would chose. 

Frustrating. 

Annoying.

Discomforting.

All good words. All Understandable words.

"What are we suppose to do?" DJ threw her hands in the air. "Separate them?" 

"Definitely not," Ngo's voice was hard. It cut through the acidic scent like it was butter. 

DJ started and sat back down, "Bad idea?"

"Very." Ngo took a seat on his stool and started typing, "Jackson would likely have fevers more frequently and the effects on an omega can be more acute. If slower acting."

"What do you suggest?" DJ crossed her arms, eyebrow raised. 

And the cherry scent returned.

Ngo turned to her, face flat and focused. His burnt sugar scent grew thicker, "I'd like to coordinate with the omega's specialist - her suppressant may be unnecessary in this situation."

DJ uncrossed her arms and sat back down in her chair, "I'll get the info from Kimmy today and send it over." Ngo nodded. 

Jackson was fairly positive this was the most awkward doctor's visit in the history of the world. 

Ngo returned to look at Jackson. His left eyebrow raised. "Now, about scent marking."

And! Now it was worse!


	4. Jackson's Keeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to write a chapter from Ramona's perspective because why not? Also, this chapter would have been WAY more awkward to write from Jackson's perspective.

Three weeks off her scent suppressant and only two people had noticed. Or, only two people had commented. Lola had said Ramona smelled worse now and Rocki had cornered her after Geometry to ask if she needed to kick Jackson's ass. 

It was oddly touching. 

Jackson had managed to entirely avoid the subject, at least with her, and Ramona hadn't decided if that bugged her yet. Ok, it did, but she hadn't decided if she was doing anything about it. 

This was an awkward situation and Ramona was attempting to be sensitive to Jackson's feelings. He'd definitely gotten the short end of the stick post-presentation. Plus, he was still grounded for fighting at school. 

"Hey, Ramona," Popko approached her lunch table.  
The other three girls glared at him, "You seen Jackson?" 

Ramona arched eyebrow, "I'm not his keeper."

"Did he come to school today or not?" Popko rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms, "He missed study hall and Gene said he was MIA for history too."

There was an acidic flavour rising in her mouth, "My Uncle Jimmy dropped us off together this morning."

"Great," Popko groaned, "Ditching class. He's never gonna get ungrounded." Popko's jaw was clenched as he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Ramona called him, which drew more than just his raised eyebrow, "Where do you think he went?" Popko shrugged and kept walking. 

Ramona groaned, shoving her food away to set her head down on the table. The acid in her mouth had dropped straight to her stomach. 

"I think I actually am his keeper," Ramona grumbled out. Lola patted her shoulder. 

Jackson showed back up halfway through the next period. She was paying attention now. His scent was stronger now, more distinct - a development she was blaming on the marking.

She got a hall pass from her teacher for the bathroom and then rushed through mostly empty hallways. Jackson was at his locker. His forehead pressed against the door.

"Go away, Ramona," Jackson waved his hand at her without ever moving his head. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"You skipped class," Ramona hissed at him, "DJ is going to kill you!" He hmmed. Ramona stepped forward to grab his arm. 

Rather than yanking on his arm, Ramona found herself pinned to the locker. Jackson held her there with a single hand on her shoulder. 

"What the he-" Ramona's anger stopped on her lips. Jackson's eyes were pinpricks and accompanied by dark circles. Raccoon level dark. "Are you okay?"

His hand flexed, "Just. Go away." He left. His footsteps dragging. Ramona stayed, her back against his locker, and gasped down a steadying breath. His scent filled her lungs, pushing out the acidic burn that had spread through her whole body. 

"What the fuck is going on?!" Ramona growled to herself. Her return to American History was met with a few raised eyebrows and a disgruntled shrug from their teacher. Ramona ignored them.

There was no further Jackson incidents. She didn't even see him till after dance when she passed by his room.

Jackson was lying face down on his bed, a pillow over his head. His fingers were gripping the pillow so tightly Ramona was surprised the fabric hadn't ripped. She hesitated by his door. 

He shifted his head to look at her. She took an unconscious step back at the glare on his face. His pupils were blown wide now and her stomach clenched. She fled for her room.

"He's been grouchy since he got home," Max didn't knock before he strolled into her room, "He even snapped at Tommy when he tried to get him to come out of his room!" 

"He can probably hear you, you know," Ramona whispered as she spun in her desk chair to face him.

Max threw his hands in the air, "So what?! He was rude first!" Max stuck his lower lip out, "He's never this horrible though, especially not to Tommy, did something happen?" His head tilted and his eyes wide, Ramona had a hard time lying.

"I don't know," Ramona bit her lip and turned back to her desk. Max scoffed. "Something happened, I think." Ramona looked back at him, "I don't know what though. He told me to go away."

"Well," Max's chin raised in the air, "At least he's being a jerk to everyone." Max strolled out of her room and slammed his bedroom door behind him. 

Ramona smiled, shook her head. She glanced to the wall she shared with Jackson's room, "He's worried about you." 

Jackson didn't respond. Ramona turned back to her computer. She had homework to do.

Homework that she ignored in favor of playing keeper to Jackson Fuller. What was her life?

Some quick digital interrogations had gotten her the near exact time of Jackson's departure from school: after first period, before second. She knew he'd returned halfway through fifth period. 

Roughly three hours was not a lot of time to go anywhere in San Francisco, not with midday traffic. The BART didn't have the greatest of radius' and Ramona was fairly positive Jackson wouldn't take it or a bus. Lola said public transit smelled almost as bad as public restrooms, sometimes worse. 

With Lola and Rocki's assistance she'd narrowed down routes and possible locations. The answer stared up at her with a clear certainty. 

The Alpha Physiology Clinic. Dr. Ngo. 

Wikipedia and WebMD were her next stops. She read symptom lists and lists of alpha-specific diseases - there were an alarming amount. 

'Ding!'

Messenger popped up on the side of her screen. Jackson's smiling face looking down at her from his minatured profile picture. 

>>> Stop it

Ramona gulped.

>>> What??!

She straightened in her chair. If Jackson didn't want her snooping he should just tell her what was wrong. She was a Gibbler damn it! She had a reputation to uphold!

>>> Whatever is freaking you out

…what?

>>> You smelled worried  
>>>And nervous  
>>> It's giving me a headache

Ramona narrowed her eyes at the screen. The chair spun as she sprung from the room. Jackson jumped when she slammed his door behind her. 

"Are you kidding me?!" Ramona seethed as she shoved at the lump of teenage boy in Jackson's bed. He stumbled a bit, flinching away from her touch and falling onto the floor. 

She paced as she cursed him out. Slipping in and out of Spanish as she ran out of insults. Her heart rate was up and her breathing ragged. Jackson didn't make a sound. 

"Are you going to speak or just sit there?!" 

When Ramona rounded the corner she expected to find him still lying on the floor. The same rude glower on his face as earlier. Nope.

Jackson was sitting back against the side of his bed, head pressed against the mattress as he grimaced. Ramina sniffed - the air was thick, an acidy scent that turned her stomach. 

"Are you-"

He growled. An actual, out-and-out growl. Her stomach turned again. That time not from nausea. 

She looked him over - his body was trembling, his shoulders shook, and he was damp with sweat. Her eyes halted on his lap. His jeans were undone and his hand pressed down against an erection thankfully covered by Star Wars boxers. 

But the air stunk. He wasn't aroused. Ramona would recognize that - she'd lost the morning race to the shower enough times since she'd presented - and the air was currently rancid. Her throat felt raw as bile rose up from her stomach. 

"Jackson..." Ramona knelt beside him, her voice low. His back arched, a mewling sound escaped his throat. She moved closer. Jackson's head turned to face her. 

She reached out a hand to touch him. His skin was ice cold as her palm pressed against his neck. Jackson curled around her then. His head buried against her collarbone. Ramona racked her fingers through his hair - the short, brown locks were damp.

Jackson's hands moved to her hips, fingers digging in. His breath puffed against the skin of her throat in short, ragged intervals. He was still trembling as Ramona began to rub his back with her other hand. 

They stayed like that a while. Jackson curled around her, her arms wrapped around him. It was the oppositve of every alpha-omega interection she'd seen on television. But her stomach settled when she held him. 

Ramona knew the second whatever was happening was over - Jackson whimpered and his grip tightened. She felt him press his head against her chest, hard, for a bried moment before Jackson scooted away swiftly. He didn't look at her or it as he zipped and buttoned his jeans. 

"Sorry," Jackson cleared his throat, a whispy voice as he stared at his wall. Ramona looked him over: he wasn't shaking. More importantly the room didn't smell like some horrendously strong house-cleaner. 

"What -"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That's nice," Ramano grinned as she stood up, moved to stand in front of him, "But irrelevant." 

Jackson's face was red - just finished her Abuela's tamales red. Well, he wasn't cold anymore. 

"Speak, Jackson," Ramona took a step closer, towering over him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, "I know you went to see the doctor today."

His eyes flashed. Ramona's stomach did yet another turn - knotting itself well. She ignored it by kicking his foot.

"Don't laugh." Jackson blew out a breath and ruffled the top of his hair. Ramona stood straighter, crossed her arms, waited. 

"Well?" Ramona raised an eyebrow when he didn't start talking.

"I can knot."

Ramona blinked. Her arms dropped to her side. Knotting had been on one of the lists. It was a rare ailment - nonexistant in recessive alphas.

"But you're not from an alpha line?" Ramona puckered her lips. Jackson raised his eyebrow at her. "What? You think only you can google?"

"Ngo said its the Katsopolis line," Jackson drew one of his knees to his chest. He kept looking at the floor, "Thinks the combo of the female alpha line and my dad's recessive genes might be messing with my body chemistry."

This had not been in the state approved health class they'd taken. Knotting had appeared zero times in the textbook. She'd only heard of it, pre-wiki search, in fanfiction. Teen Wolf fanfics mostly. 

"What exactly does the…the knot…do?" Ramona stumbled over her words as her feet flexed and stretched beneath her. Jackson watched the fidgeting with a furrow brow. 

"You mean besides stretch the base of my dick? Painfully and slowly? In increasing intervals?" 

Ramona blushed. She mindlessly started to flit from foot to foot, "I..I don't really know…anything about it."

"I didn't either," Jackson grumbled, face twisting, "I figured it was just some weird side effect from the rut or the scent marking or…some weird alpha thing Joey forgot to mention!" 

Jackson was standing then. Ramona stepped out of his way as he began to pace the room. Hands flying out expressively as he talked.

"But then it started happening all the time! And jacking off does nothing, absolutely useless! In what world does masturbation not fix all dick-related issues?

"Mine apparently! And when I finally get a chance to ask Ngo about it without my mom listening in, he hands me a pamphlet and asks to do a DNA history test or whatever because aparently this is 'Interesting!'

"Interesting! Trying fucking annoying! 

Ramona watched his face wrinkle into a scowl. When he paused she stepped into his space. Jackson froze. 

"Why did I help?" Ramona put her hands on her hips and watched Jackson sputter. His mouth opened and closed. Opened and closed. 

He reached around her to rifle through his back pack. A red pamphlet, creased and wrinkled, was shoved into her hand. 

Jackson sat on the edge of his desk, crossing and uncrossing his legs, while she read the short informational blurbs.

In bullet points at the bottom of one of the trifold pages was a list of know 'Assistive Aids.' Sandwhiched between types of sex toys and some essential oil recommendations was 'the presence and scent of an omega bonded to you.'

"Oh," Ramona looked up at him. Jackson was staring at his wall again. "We should work out a system for when you need me then." Jackson's head whipped around and his eyes were wide. She started laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of knotting as a purely sexual thing seemed odd to me, and it always seemed like something that would make puberty very awkward. So. Hope you enjoyed my take on the trope!


	5. Pack Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy puns - don't tell my little brother. ;)

An Upside had finally been found! 

Three miles he'd been carrying Tommy, and Max's many purchases from Preppies R Us, and Jackson was not even the slightest bit winded. 

Being an alpha Had to have some perks, apparently. 

"So, we're agreed?" Max was looking at him over his half-eaten ice cream cone. His eyes were shrewd - narrow little slits of suspicion that were honestly kind of adorable. 

Not that he'd admit that. Ever. In this or the next life. 

"I swear," Jackson nodded his head and suppressed an eye roll, "My alpha dramatics will never again come between our brotherly bond."

Those words had just come out of his mouth. He would never be cool again. 

"Do you forgive me for being extra jerk-like now?" Jackson asked, not at all tired or annoyed. No-ooo. It wasn't like he'd taken Max shopping at his favorite store. For two hours. And bought him ice cream. Before and after. 

Oh wait. He had.

Tommy had been much easier - he'd been perfectly happy to forgive Jackson any and all transgressions after the trip to McDonalds. 

The ice cream Had solidified his return to Epic Older Brother Status. So Max's emotional manipulation was good for something.

"Hmmm." Max side-eyed him as they turned up the hill onto their street. 

Jackson narrowed his eyes on him, "Max…" There was a line. Jackson wasn't aware it was there this morning, but they were certainly stepping on it now. 

Max's face split into a large toothy grin. "You're forgiven!" He chirped. Then he started laughing, "I'm kind of surprised you went for the second ice cream honestly." Max licked around the edge of his double chocolate, "You must feel really bad."

"Eh." Jackson didn't shrug - Tommy was sound asleep on his shoulder - but he did bob his head to the side. "It's been a rough couple of months for me and I was definitely a sucky older brother for most of it. Figure I should make it up to you, now things are starting to level out."

"Is being an alpha really that bad?" Max raised an eyebrow at him, one eye wider than the other, "I mean, alphas are usually pretty awesome on television."

Television sit-coms were the bane of Jackson's existence. 

Not internet level. But. Close.

"It's fucking weird," Jackson said, ignoring Max's gasp. "I barely have time to figure one thing out before my body flips another switch." 

Max launched into a lecture on language - because he was Max. Jackson ignored him - because he was Not Max. And Tommy stretched in his sleep, yawned, and then face planted onto Jackson's shoulder blade.

Really. It was so obvious what was coming. 

The switch. He'd literally just mentioned it. And still. When the cherry scent hit his nose before they got to the front door, Jackson froze. 

Usually when he smelled cherries in his mother's scent she was annoyed or angry, but then it was acidic. Now, it was almost tart - like it had mixed with a Smartie to make a new candy. 

A gummy candy, cause it smelled kinda gross and rubbery too. Alpha senses had really ruined Red Vines… 

"Why did you stop?" Max was looking down at him from the top step. Jackson quickly climbed the stairs and pushed his brother behind him. 

The new scent had Jackson on edge. More so because he couldn't identify the emotional shift the scent represented either. 

There was a nagging bell in the back of his head that reminded him of The Incident. In a bad way. It had been the stupid feeling that had pushed him into Ramona's room. 

"Stay behind me," Jackson's voice was gruffer than he meant it to be when he spoke. There were two other scents on the other side of the door. 

Betas. 

Their scents had hidden beneath his mother's. And there were so many betas scents around he couldn't distinguish them. But they were new. Different. 

Max remained, shockingly, silent as Jackson contemplated picking his other brother up and leaving. He'd protest then, of course. 

Plus, the cherry scent was definitely strengthening. 

Jackson opened the door and took two steps into the living room. Max, being Max, didn't listen and came up right beside him. He, however, did not recognize the two people sitting on the couch. 

"Boys!" DJ hopped up from the armchair by the fireplace. She was wringing her hands. The smile was too wide. 

Jackson glared at the Fullers, who slowly rose up from the couch. They were older than they'd been at the funeral - definitely grayer and wrinklier. 

"What are they doing here?" 

DJ visibly started at his voice. It had sounded odd to Jackson too - flatter. Even Max had paused in his step down from the doorway. 

"Your grandparents were in the area," DJ's laugh was practically hysterical to his ear, "They stopped in to say hello."

Jackson's gaze swept to them and he very much enjoyed the half step back they both took. He wasn't 12 anymore. And maybe he hated lots of aspects of being an alpha, but the intimidation factor was not one of them. 

DJ cleared her throat, "Jackson-"

"Did they apologize?" He looked back at his mom. She ducked her head, smile tight. That was a no. 

The cherry scent was ebbing away. The familiar palmy sweat was taking hold. Worry. Much better than whatever that ick had been. 

"Then I don't want them here." Jackson took the two small steps down from the door and then tugged Max after him as he walked into the kitchen. 

Max made a stilted attempt to argue, but they were already at the table by the time he actually spoke. 

"Why are you being so weird again?!"

Jackson looked at Max as he set the shopping bags down. He kept Tommy. His hold only a little tighter than before.

"Because they're jerks and I want them to leave." 

Max looked back at the kitchen door. Raised whispers could be heard. Jackson, however, could make out the words. 

His spine straightened. 

"Upstairs," Jackson nodded his head towards the kitchen stairs and Max agreed. He was still sour-faced, but he still had the second ice cream in hand so Jackson refused to feel guilty. 

Not that the jangling noise in his head was leaving much room for other thoughts. 

Jackson put Tommy on his bed and then gave Max very swift instructions to stay in their room until he got back. Whatever face he was making seemed to convince his very ornery little brother. 

Awesome. One task down. 

The jangling did not abate. 

In the hallway Jackson headed for the main stairs. He gripped the railing tightly as he looked down on the living room. The three adults were arguing. 

"You've poisoned them against us!" "How dare you keep our only grandchildren away us!" 

The cherry scent was edging under his nostrils and the jangling had gone full on church bell in his head. Their words now mixed with their words from the funeral. 

They'd made his mother cry…

"Get out!" Jackson's voice cut through the room. DJ started up at him, shock in her eyes. There were no tears. This time.

His grandparents - well, it wasn't shock on their faces.

Jackson's grip on the rail tightened as he shook his head - there was a pressure building. His ears felt stuffed up all of a sudden. 

"Jackson, honey…"

His eyes narrowed on his grandmother. His vision sharpen on their faces. "I said get out!" The rail split in his hand. Wood bit into his skin, the coppery scent of blood wafted upwards. 

It was soothing. The pressure seemed to lessen. 

Though that might have been more because the Fullers were running out the door. Yeah. That was probably more the reason. 

"Jackson." DJ had her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised expectantly. He shrugged. 

The stupid bells had stopped. He shook his hand out to dislodge some of the wood that had embedded itself in his palm. It kinda stung. 

"Come down here so I can look at your hand," DJ blew a breath out and went to get the First Aid kit. She spent the next hour digging splinters out of his palm. 

Jackson had absolutely no idea why she wasn't yelling at him. The railing was pretty definitely going to need a visit from a carpenter. Possibly replacing. 

"So…" Jackson whistled, looking at the railing rather than his hand. Cause blood, ick. "Am I grounded?"

DJ hummed, pulled another splinter out. "I don't think so."

Wait. What?

"You were trying to protect us," DJ shrugged, dabbed at his hand with an alcohol wipe. He winced. "That's probably the one alpha thing I understand."

Protective…alpha…thing. 

Jackson groaned, "What thing is this?" She laughed.

His own mother. Wow. 

"Thanks," Jackson stuck his bottom lip out in a pout as DJ started to wrap his hand. A metric ton of gauze appeared to be stuck between his palm and the bandage. 

"It's an instinct," DJ placed a hand on his shoulder and suddenly they were looking eye to eye. And she was smiling. "Your dad use to say it felt like his head might actually explode from the pressure if he didn't do something to help."

Oh. The bells. 

DJ ruffled his hair, "Though, I don't think most alphas have as broad a definition for pack as he did." 

"Pack?" Jackson scrunched up his face, "Are we in Teen Wolf now? I thought I walked into the Fuller house, not the Hale's?"

And now his mother was rolling her eyes at him. Was nothing sacred? 

"I don't know what the technical term would be," DJ ruffled his hair as she stood up, "But I think pack is an apt description." She winked. "How else do you explain Max staying upstairs this whole time?" 

Jackson snapped up, "Shit." 

"Language!" DJ called after him as Jackson rushed up the stairs to let a now-fuming Max out of his room. "And you're working off the cost for the railing!"

She huffed, turning to look at her bloodied medical supplies scattered over her previously clean floor.

"Just when I thought I might never have to put up with alpha commands ever again…" DJ muttered to herself as she started to clean up. 

Jackson paused, door knob in hand, as her words penetrated his brain. Commands? 

He opened the door and was immediately barraged by a trademark Max Fuller rant. Tommy was watching from his bed, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, grinning. 

Commands would be pretty useful actually. 

"And then you just left us in here for over an hour! And hour, Jackson! No food, no water, no explanation." 

WikiHow had to have a tutorial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New phone equals very sensitive new autocorrect, your mercy is appreciated.


End file.
